


Good Times Are Now

by illfoandillfie



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, mention of Rog smoking but thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 15:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illfoandillfie/pseuds/illfoandillfie
Summary: A picnic in the park, what could go wrong?





	Good Times Are Now

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first attempt at something fluffy so I hope it’s okay. I’m fairly aromantic irl but uhhhhh Roger’s got me dreaming about cute dates ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (Title taken from one of Roger’s solo songs cause I’ve been listening to Fun In Space a ridiculous amount this week its so good you need to check it out if you haven’t already)

You couldn’t believe how slowly the morning was going. It felt like someone had put a spell on the clock to make time creep along at a snail’s pace. Every time you looked up from your work to find that only a minute or two had passed since last time, you groaned inwardly. You knew if you focused on your work the day would go much faster, but you couldn’t help being distracted today. Not only was it Friday, your early day when you got to leave work at one o’clock, but you also had plans to meet up with your boyfriend Roger for a late lunch. He’d got back from tour two days ago and you were both still resenting having to leave each other for more than 5 minutes, especially for something as boring as your job. You’d considered calling in sick this morning and were starting to wish you had. You glanced at the clock again and sighed as you realised just how little time had passed since your last look.

The rest of your day passed as unproductively as the morning had, dragging its heels through a mess of bad coffees and unsympathetic hour hands. But finally, it was time to pack up. You knew that come Monday you would regret not getting much work done but that was a problem for future you. For now, your thoughts remained solidly on Roger and the lunch that was awaiting. You caught the bus to a small park not far from your house where Roger had told you to meet him, your heart beat picking up as you got closer. He was sitting on the rock wall that ran around the perimeter of the park, having a smoke while he waited for you. You watched as he slid off the wall and stubbed out the cigarette under his heel  before coming over to greet you. Just seeing him made you feel a little giddy and, had you been able to pull it off, you would have done a heel-click-jump right there in the middle of the street. Instead you contented yourself with throwing your arms around Roger’s neck, sighing into him as you felt his arms wrap around your waist and your feet leave the floor.

“Hi,” his voice muffled against your shoulder, “missed you,”  
“Missed you too,” you replied with a small giggle. Neither of you were normally quite this clingy, but the tour had been your first extended time away from each other and it hadn’t been easy on you. This wasn’t his first tour and he’d tried to prepare you for the distance but even with all his warnings about how long he’d be gone for and how he wouldn’t always be able to call, and his reassurances about how he’d be thinking of you, you’d found it hard. Many a night had been spent lying awake in a bed that was too big and too empty. You felt as if you hadn’t slept properly since he left. Roger dropped you lightly to the ground again, his hands slipping from your waist. He turned to pick up something you hadn’t noticed off the wall behind him.  
“What cha got there, Rog?”  
“Thought we could have lunch in the park,” he said, indicating what you now realised was a picnic basket, as he slipped his free hand into yours and started walking. Catching sight of the slightly surprised look on your face he continued, “don’t worry, I didn’t try and bake anything myself. It’s all store bought. Not gonna poison you after I just got back.” You couldn’t help laughing as he pulled you further into the park. He clearly knew where he wanted to set up and you were more than happy to let him lead you there, your thoughts a little more focused on the food now that he was within reach again. You passed the playground where harried mothers chatted away, their kids running and yelling, and stepped off the path, winding your way between trees and bushes until, eventually, you made it to a patch of grass under a huge oak tree. It was quieter here, though you could still hear some of the kids’ louder screams. Roger passed the basket to you so he could pull out a blanket and spread it over the ground. You kicked off your shoes, kneeled down and began pulling out the basket’s contents. A few different sandwiches, some biscuits, a bottle of juice with cups from home, and two of your favourite fruit tarts from the bakery you love. Roger sat with his back to the tree.  
“What d’ya think?”  
“I think we aren’t going to finish this food on our own,”  
“Cheeky,” he pulled you down to sit on his lap and tilted your head up so he could lay a soft kiss on your lips. You let the kiss deepen for a moment before pulling away.  
“As much as I have missed kissing you Rog, I haven’t eaten all day and I’d like to get something before the ants do.” He stuck his tongue out at you. You responded in kind.

The next couple of hours were spent eating and talking. Catching up on everything that happened while you were apart that you hadn’t had a chance to talk about yet. He told you all about the tour, where they’d been and what the crowds were like and all the dumb shit they’d done to keep entertained on the bus. In return you told him all about what your family had been doing, and all the latest gossip from work. Infinitely more boring than his stories, you thought, but he hung on your every word. His hands were never far from you, resting on your knee or tracing patterns over your skin or pulling you in so he could press another kiss to your lips. As the afternoon wore on you found yourself resting your head against Roger’s chest as you both lay on the blanket, looking up at the swaying branches. He had one hand tangled in your hair, the other softly tapping out a beat over your own fingers. You could feel your eyes growing heavy as the months of erratic sleep caught up to you.

The next thing you knew was a cold drop against your forehead. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to work out whether the sensation had been part of your dream. Another drop. Definitely not part of your dream. Your eyes flew open as you sat up and took in your surroundings. The afternoon sun was covered by big black clouds that had rolled in while you napped, and you could no longer hear the kids back at the playground.   
“Shit,” you pushed yourself to your knees and shook Roger’s shoulder, “Rog, wake up. It’s about to start pissing down, we gotta move.”   
You were already bustling around picking up the discarded cups and leftover food, throwing it all into the basket as Roger stirred groggily, “wha’s hap’ning?”  
Before you could answer, the rain began to fall in earnest.   
“Oh, fuck,” You heard behind you as you picked up your discarded shoes. Roger was on his feet in seconds, hastily folding the blanket and shoving it into the basket. He grabbed your hand and you were both running. You ran as fast as you could over the grass as it got steadily more squishy, the rain picking up with every step. By the time you reached the park entrance you were out of breath and completely soaked through. Roger led you over to the bus stop you’d met him at earlier so you could huddle in what little shelter it provided. You took in his bedraggled appearance – hair sticking to his face and neck, shirt askew and clinging to his chest, a streak of mud across his cheek (though you had no idea how it got there) – and couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in your chest.   
“Sorry,” you managed through the laughter, “You just look a little ridiculous.” You reached up to push his wet hair back, but it didn’t help.  
“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he said with a playful push on your shoulder.

As your giggles subsided you turned to look out at the street; people hurrying from under umbrellas into buildings, a queue of cars cautiously creeping through the downpour and no end to the rain in sight.   
“Next bus doesn’t come for another half hour,” Roger said, peering over your shoulder to look at the timetable behind you.  
“Might as well just walk it, we’re already soaked and I bet it’ll stop before we’re home,”  
Roger didn’t look convinced.  
“C’mon, it’s only a few blocks,” you took his hand in yours and tried to lead him back out into the deluge, “it’s just a little rain, it’s not going to kill us.”  
“Says you. You’re already starting to shiver.”  
“Even more reason to get moving then.” This time you succeeded in pulling him out of the small shelter. You twirled yourself under his arm, relishing the way he smiled at your antics, before draping his arm around your shoulders. You were thankful for what little warmth you could share through your soaked clothing as you walked along, pressed into Roger’s side, the chill of the rain beginning to hit you.

By the time you’d reached home your teeth were chattering and you were longing to change into your warmest pjs.   
“What was it you said about the rain stopping before we got home?” Roger said over his shoulder as he fumbled with the keys in the door.  
“A-at leas-s-s-t it was f-a-a-ster than th-th-e bus-s,”   
“Christ Y/N. Gotta get you warmed up,” he opened the door and you both tumbled inside. Roger started pulling off his sodden shoes as you headed straight for the bathroom. You turned the shower on and let it heat up as you began removing your wet clothes. You adjusted the taps so they were as hot as you could handle without sustaining burns and stood there, letting the water run over you, gradually warming you back up. Once you’d regained feeling in your toes you stepped out of the shower, wrapped yourself in the fluffiest towel you could find and headed to your bedroom. You dug through your draws till you found the comfiest flannel pyjama pants you owned and your favourite sweater you’d stolen from Roger. It was old and stained and too big for you, but that hadn’t stopped you wearing it nearly every day Roger was away. It was by far the cosiest thing you owned. As you were pulling the sweater over your head you felt Roger’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against him. He’d changed into his own dry clothes but his fingers still felt chilly against your skin.  
“All warmed up now?” he mumbled into your neck.  
“Mmhmm. You?”  
“Could be warmer.” He didn’t give you any time to react before he turned you round and lifted you over his shoulder. You squealed and thrashed your arms, sleeves that went past your hands waving around, as he carried you through the house to the lounge room, both of you laughing.

The rain was still coming down outside, you could hear it beating against the windows, but there was a fire burning in the fireplace and a nest of blankets and pillows on the couch. Roger lifted you back over his shoulder, lowering you to the ground before making himself comfortable on the couch. His back leaned up against the armrest and his legs stretched out over the length of the couch, giving you no choice but to curl up on his lap. Once you were in position, he threw some of the blankets over the both of you. His arms wrapped around you, inviting you to snuggle into him, and he sighed contentedly against the top of your head.  
“Much better.”


End file.
